


'till you can rest your tired eyes (and let it slip away)

by imdepresssedd



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, References to Depression
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-09
Updated: 2019-08-09
Packaged: 2020-08-13 08:56:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,038
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20171599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imdepresssedd/pseuds/imdepresssedd
Summary: He should've just pretended, he's good at that; pretending he's okay. He does it all the time, no one's an exception, not even his parents. But, for some reason, the need to put up a front is nonexistent around James. His carefully crafted, rock solid walls crumble when it comes to him. He forgets to pretend.





	'till you can rest your tired eyes (and let it slip away)

**Author's Note:**

> experiencing your seasonal bout of summer depression and deciding to project it onto fictional versions of existing youtubers amirite lads.
> 
> also A Level results day is coming up and i'm absolutely pissing myself so i just need distractions thank you x

Alex promised himself he’d fall asleep early.

It’s four in the morning, and his eyes are red and bloodshot in the bathroom mirror, droopy with prominent bags underneath. He’s so tired, exhaustion racking his bones, but he can’t do it. He can’t fall asleep.

He can go on his phone, open twitter or instagram, scroll until his brain is fried enough to put him out of his misery. His phone feels uncomfortably heavy in his hand, his fingers frail and shaky. They don’t even feel like his own.

He - unsurprisingly - manages to feel even worse after a few minutes of aimless scrolling. He debates getting up again, sitting at his desk and maybe editing a video, jotting down some new ideas, catching up on emails. Anything to distract him from the painfully deafening silence.

What would the point be though?

He closes his eyes. He counts sheep. He plugs in his earphones and shuffles his sleep playlist.

It's 5am now, and he's still wide awake.

/

There's a knock at the door, one that's soft but sure and signature to James.

Alex groans. No chance George will get it, and he's  _ just _ managed to settle into the comfiest position. He sets down his tub of ice cream, bitterly throwing the blanket off his body and trudging to the front door.

"What d'you fuckin' want?"

James' eyebrows shoot up.  _ "Oh hi, James! Lovely to see you, James! _ Hello to you, too, Alex! Lovely to see you as well!"

Alex rolls his eyes, begrudgingly stepping aside to let him in. "Shut up, I was so  _ comfortable.  _ You've ruined everyfin'."

James takes up residence beside him on the sofa, glancing at the TV and snorting.  _ "Who Wants To Be a Millionaire?  _ What are you, 90?"

"Shut  _ up.  _ I didn't have to let you in so if you're just gonna be a mean bastard you can go home." Alex settles back into the warmth of his blanket, trying to return to the previous position he'd been in before James had ever so rudely interrupted him. There's a generous amount of space between the two of them on the sofa; Alex gives it about 5 minutes before the gap inevitably closes.

"What's stuck up your arse on this fine Sunday evening then?"

"You, cunt."

"Well, not yet I'm not but if you'd like - "

"Right get out."

James laughs heartily, undoubtedly proud of how easily he can get under Alex's skin. It's a proud talent of his for sure, and Alex despises it.

"Seriously, though. I can tell something's up. What's going on up here?" he gently taps the tip of his forefinger against Alex's temple. It makes Alex roll his eyes, how James can go from irritating cunt to caring friend in a matter of seconds.

"It's nothing."

"Very convincing. You have me fooled." James deadpans, unimpressed with Alex's  _ immaculate  _ acting skills.

Alex rolls his eyes again, snuggling further into his blanket. He hates how insistent James can be. "Well, it  _ is  _ actually nothing. So jokes on you."

James snorts. "You're such an idiot."

"Wow, thanks. That's really helped with my already rapidly declining mental health and nonexistent self esteem, cheers for that mate."

"So there  _ is  _ something wrong. Come on, tell Doctor James all about it." Alex hates James for making him want to  _ smile  _ right now. That slight tugging at the corners of his lips has become almost unfamiliar.

"You're not a doctor, thank fuck for that."

James nods. "Was gonna say tell  _ Uncle  _ James all about it but didn't wanna make things weird."

"I hate you."

"Alex." James looks completely serious for the first time tonight, piercing eyes staring right through him. "What's up."

How is he supposed to put it into words? The emptiness, the numb sensation plaguing his senses; what he thought was only mental translating into physical pain too, in his chest and in his stomach constantly; when it's three in the morning and he's positive the whole city must be asleep except for him, and he feels small and insignificant and all alone. How does he put that into words?

"I don't bloody know, alright? I don't know."

He doesn't need to look at James to know he's frowning. "But something  _ is  _ wrong. Isn't it?" His voice is bleeding concern, and Alex wishes more than anything that he could rewind to before their conversation took this fatal turn. He should've just pretended, he's good at that; pretending he's okay. He does it all the time, no one's an exception, not even his parents. But, for some reason, the need to put up a front is nonexistent around James. His carefully crafted, rock solid walls crumble when it comes to him. He forgets to pretend.

He doesn't realise he's crying until he's being wrapped in James's arms, his face safely tucked into the crook of his neck. Nothing is said for a few minutes, only the soft murmuring of the TV and Alex's pathetic sobs as background noise. James is rubbing one hand softly up and down his back, the other gently running through his hair. He could fall asleep, he realises - he could just close his eyes, let himself fall into the endless abyss of the sleep he hasn't been able to fully enjoy in days - no, weeks now. Possibly months, he's long lost count. All he knows is that sleep has never been so in reach.

He shuts his eyes, waiting for it to take him under. He feels as James reaches over him slowly, draping the abandoned blanket over his body. He silently prays for him not to leave, because he knows sleep will leave with him.

Though the heaviness in his chest remains, something about James's presence eases the ache slightly. Like having a hand to squeeze while you wait for a needle to poke into your arm; it doesn't take the pain away, but it helps, to know that you're not alone, that someone cares enough to be there, to hold you.

"We'll talk later, yeah?" James whispers it, low and soothing. Alex nods. A soft kiss presses against his forehead, and a smile - one that isn't anywhere near pretend, not like usual - stretches across his face.

He closes his eyes, and sleeps.

**Author's Note:**

> yea that was shite i'm sorry i'm justSad


End file.
